


i taste a liquor never brewed

by inber



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Humor, Intoxication, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nicknames, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Out of Character, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inber/pseuds/inber
Summary: They’d been on the road for three weeks, and now that they were cosy and fed inside a tavern, Geralt had found himself jealous of Jaskier’s carefree inebriation courtesy of the shitty excuse for wine that the establishment sold. He’d tried very hard to catch up to the bard. As ever, his rapid-fire mutant liver had burnt off the human-grade alcohol before he could get beyond tipsy.So he’d brought out the big guns. Witcher liquor. Jaskier could not partake, but Geralt felt relaxed and mirthful, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so dozy-warm. Couldn’t remember much, if he was being honest with himself.Wait, right. His secret plan.Or: Geralt gets stupid drunk in a tavern with Jaskier, which results in some cute fluff that is terribly silly and self-indulgent. Can be read platonically or romantically!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 84
Kudos: 648





	i taste a liquor never brewed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ruffboi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/gifts).



“Jas—Jaskier.” Geralt leaned into his travelling companion. He forgot his own mass, and the other man nearly fell off the edge of the booth they were crammed into.

“What?” The bard resisted the push, recovering his wine before it spilled.

“ _Jaskier_.” Geralt’s voice was a stage whisper. The ember of his eyes caught the brazier light and glinted. Jaskier suppressed a snort as the witcher’s vertical pupils dilated, an attempt at focus.

“Geralt,” Jaskier replied. Surely this was not all there was to be had from the conversation.

“Jaskier.” The witcher stuck his nose directly into Jaskier’s ear in a poor attempt to deliver his speech. “D’you know... where we are?”

The bard giggled at the hot snuffle of breath at his earlobe, squirming away. “Fucking hell, Geralt. Yes, we’re in a tavern. You pulled out your, and I quote, ‘ _special drink_ ’ in a flask about half an hour ago.”

Oh, right. Geralt felt at his pocket, clumsy fingers wrapping around the vessel. White gull. They’d been on the road for three weeks, and now that they were cosy and fed inside a tavern, Geralt had found himself jealous of Jaskier’s carefree inebriation courtesy of the shitty excuse for wine that the establishment sold. He’d tried very hard to catch up to the bard. As ever, his rapid-fire mutant liver had burnt off the human-grade alcohol before he could get beyond tipsy.

So he’d brought out the big guns. Witcher liquor. Jaskier could not partake, but Geralt felt relaxed and mirthful, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so dozy-warm. Couldn’t remember much, if he was being honest with himself.

Wait, right. His secret plan.

“No,” He corrected Jaskier, “No no. Well, _yes_. A tavern, true.” Geralt pillowed his chin in his hand, and missed his hand. He recovered by leaning into the crook of his elbow instead. “A tavern – in _Hamm_.”

“Yes,” Jaskier agreed, narrowing one pale eye. Fuck, Jaskier had pretty eyes. They reminded Geralt of glaciers, the striking blue of an early spring-time melt. “You are indeed right, my dear witcher.”

Geralt stifled a giggle into the flesh of his own bicep. “Hamm. We’re in _Hamm_.”

Jaskier tried not to smile at the witcher’s sloppy state, and failed. “We are in Hamm. Do you have a special connection to—”

“Like, like the food. Hamm. What a stupid name.” Geralt’s words were semi-muffled, punctuated with a guffaw.

Laughing would only encourage him, but Jaskier rarely got to see this side of Geralt. The witcher was so reserved, a victim of the steel-trap of his mind, forever caught on bared teeth. Too often Jaskier had watched him try to say something, second-guess himself, and say nothing instead. It was the bard that kept up a steady stream of consciousness, seeming to provide for the both of them.

“Quite a stupid name.” Jaskier had to agree, swallowing more of the wine. “What would you have named the town, Geralt?”

Geralt fell pensive, frowning. The witcher raised his head, planting one solid hand on the table. Although he was seated, he wobbled. His handsome features were alive with intent, and Jaskier felt gentle apprehension wash through him. He’d seen that expression on many a drunk man’s face. Generally speaking, it lead to poor decisions.

Perhaps Geralt was a mutant, but he was not completely divided from human folly. “We should steal the town’s sign.” The witcher proposed, sharp canines on display in a grin. “Jas-Jaskier, let’s go _nick the sign_. C’mon. _Hamm_.”

Jaskier wondered how _he’d_ become the reasonable one. Suddenly, he had to contend with a handsy witcher, who was bent on clambering past the bard to set off on his quest. Thankfully, despite his bulk, Geralt was a rather pliant drunk.

“Darling, that’s an awful idea.” Jaskier soothed, as Geralt attempted to navigate the puzzle of the bard’s limbs. “What would you do with a giant Hamm sign?”

The visual dissolved Geralt into another round of laughter. The witcher pressed his face into Jaskier’s shoulder. A hand pawed at the side of the bard’s face as the amusement rumbled through both of them, utterly infectious. How could Jaskier _not_ giggle?

“Oh, fuck.” Geralt slurred, rolling his head slightly to meet Jaskier’s eyes. “Didn’t... think that far.” His nose wrinkled. “Give it to Lambert?”

“Hammbert?” Jaskier supplied.

Geralt made a loud noise somewhere between a grunt and a snort. Nearby patrons glanced their way, not for the first time. Perhaps it was best if they called it a night, Jaskier thought.

“Alright, you,” The bard put his arm around Geralt’s waist. “Let’s turn in, hm? We have a rather big bed, you know. Won’t that be nice?”

“What about the...” Geralt allowed Jaskier to heft him to his feet. He was sure they’d been on a crusade, hadn’t they? Damn it, he couldn’t remember.

Jaskier was no wilting flower of a person; years of travel and other less wholesome activities blessed him with strong legs and a muscle-bound upper body. Unfortunately, Geralt did have some weight on him. The man was like a damn wet towel, slung across Jaskier.

“C’mon, dear witcher of mine, use those feet.” Jaskier huffed, as they clumsily ascended the stairs.

“Yours?” Geralt warbled. “S’nice. I _am,_ aren’t I?”

“You are.” Jaskier said, encouraging Geralt up the last few steps. Thank the gods their room was one of the first doors. The bard let Geralt go for a moment, propping him against the wall so he might turn the key in the lock.

“S’nice, s’nice.” Geralt parroted. “And you’re _my_ bard, right?”

Jaskier paused, softening. “I am, yes.”

Geralt’s beaming grin was a delightful answer. The larger man stumbled into their shared quarters, tripped up on the rug, and fell face-first into the bed. The frame squealed in protest.

“Oh, fuck.” He grunted in surprise. “Ground’s soft.”

Closing the door, Jaskier shook his head, smiling at the sprawled witcher. “You found the bed, darling. Aren’t you clever?”

“I did?” Geralt rolled slightly, and Jaskier sat on one side of him so he wouldn’t fall off the edge of the mattress. “I am!”

Jaskier chuckled, and began to unlace the witcher’s boots. Geralt let him, half-curled around Jaskier’s body, cat-like. Clumsy fingers fiddled with a tassel embellishment on the bard’s doublet.

“There we go.” Jaskier said, letting the shoes drop to the ground. “C’mon, belt now.”

“S’ _my_ belt.” Geralt challenged.

“Yes, dearest, and it’ll be uncomfortable to sleep in. Let’s pop it off, hmm?”

Geralt eyed him suspiciously, but relented. “Okay. Okay, you can have it. But only b’cause I _like_ you.”

“Uh-huh, everyone is wonderful when you are drunk.” Jaskier agreed. When Geralt failed to understand the mechanisms of his buckle, the bard helped.

“No, not just ‘cause, just ‘cause...” Geralt wondered when his tongue had grown so large and his eyes so sleepy. “I like you _all_ the time, Julek.”

Jaskier froze. “What did you just say?”

“Pretty name.” Geralt muttered, closing his eyes. “S’pretty, my pretty bard Julek.”

 _Oh_. Jaskier wasn’t even aware that Geralt had registered his birth name when it had arisen in conversation, let alone an endearing nickname. He bit his lower lip, giving up on properly undressing either of them. Instead, he drew up the covers and nestled into the small space that Geralt did not occupy on the mattress.

That wasn’t sufficient, apparently. Geralt muttered something unintelligible and wrapped a huge arm around Jaskier, drawing him tight to his chest. Jaskier stiffened, before allowing himself the indulgence. He felt the whorl of Geralt’s deep, steady breath in his hair. Was there truth in alcohol, for witchers? Jaskier couldn’t dwell too long on the topic. Lulled into sleep by the cuddly lush, he dreamed deeply and warmly.

When Jaskier awoke, it was into a lovely sort of confusion.

Geralt was still curled beside him. That arm was still secure around his middle. And the witcher was awake, too.

“Morning.” Jaskier mumbled, squinting at the sun.

Geralt grunted, and buried his face further into Jaskier’s back. “Not morning if I keep my eyes closed.”

Ah. The witcher was still intoxicated, then. Jaskier sighed. “How long until the white gull works out of your system, my delightful drunk? By the way, this side of you is rather endearing. I shall miss it when you’re sober and you don’t remember a damn thing.”

He felt fingers flex at his side, squeezing. And then Geralt’s voice, sleep-scratched and low.

“Not drunk. Hungover.” A pause. “ _My Julek._ ”

And oh, how Jaskier pricked hot all over with joy.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! I can be found on tumblr @inber if you're on that hellsite.


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